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 Hereward, or to make Edward jealous of her. The girl went away cheered by advice and sympathy, and still more by the chance to empty her heart of its grievances. Mrs. Barnard walked down to the gate with her departing visitor, and came back to find Poppet large-eyed and tearful.

"Why, Mummy's darling white mouse, what is the matter?" she wanted to know.

"Rabbits," sniffed the child, swallowing down a sob. "I don't like them to have to shoot the poor bunnies. And perhaps if Miss Verney's in the woods, they'll shoot her, too, by mistake."

"By mistake for a bunny? Not much danger, my pet. You love Miss Verney, don't you?"

"She's the nicest lady in the world," said Poppet.

"Nicer than Lady Hereward?"

"I don't love Lady Hereward."

"What—when she s so kind to you, and brings you such a nice new doll every Christmas?"

"I don't love her because she doesn't love me," said the child. "She doesn't really care about any one —except Sir Ian."

"What a strange white mouse it is!" exclaimed Rose, kissing the child's cheek. "What things it thinks about, that nobody else would dream of."

"'Tis so, though," Poppet insisted. "My lady doesn't love any one in the world except Sir Ian. She